Anything But
by CaribbeanPeasant
Summary: Everything isn't as perfect as it seems, and everyone has secrets. When secrets turn to lies, everyone risks getting hurt. Friendships are put to the test, and the gang finds out who they really are. Mentions of drugs, sex, violence. {Might be deleted soon}
1. Masochism

_**Woo! Finally a new story. I'm so busy with work that I can't find time to write, and I've been in such a funk that I can't do anything. But I feel really good today, so I decided I'm positing a story that I've been working on for a few years. I don't know if I should mention a trigger warning for minor violence since I've never before, but there is mention of rape, so... yeah?**_

 _ **Leave a review telling what you think!**_

* * *

 _ **Jade**_

When I was ten, I caught my father in bed with another woman.

I remember running into the kitchen to call my mother; I didn't know what else to do at the time. He was kissing that woman, and I believe remember thinking 'he shouldn't do that; that lady isn't my mom.'

At first, my mother didn't believe me. 'He wouldn't do that.' And then she was quiet; she was so quiet, I wondered if she'd hung up. She told me she would be home soon, and fifteen minutes later, she was.

I remember her running after my father and the other woman with a knife, screaming about that woman being a whore. He wasn't going to leave her with a kid; he was going to take care of his family. How _dare_ he defile their bed with that cokehead hooker?

That night, I watched my mother murder my father and a prostitute.

She was sent to jail, and I was sent to LA. I wasn't allowed to see her for a while or go to her trial, but I'll never forget the first time I visited her in prison. I needed to know why she did it, why a woman who was always so kind and caring would kill two people without a second thought.

"All men do is hurt women, Emmy," she'd said through the prison phone, a dark glare in her eyes. There was a certain wildness in them that still plagues me in my sleep. "They hurt us with sex, but we _like_ it; they make us think that it'll stop hurting one day, but it never will. And you know _why_?"

Her gaze was penetrating, frightening. I couldn't even bring myself to look at her anymore. "No…"

"Because we're supposed to save ourselves for marriage. That is the _only_ way it won't hurt; I didn't wait, so it hurt for me. It kept hurting and hurting, to the point where I lost hope that it wouldn't hurt anymore, so I stopped. And because I stopped, your father found a whore."

Suddenly, she shot up from her chair and banged her receiver on the thick glass. I ducked beneath the table with a scream, and it was the second time in my life that I'd ever been truly terrified. She shouted profanities that I could barely hear, and a guard had to drag her away.

It was the first and last time I saw her in prison.

Her words stuck with me, though, and I told myself that I'd wait until I got married.

After the night my father died, I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle on my mother's side. I refused to let anyone know, but I was so goddamn excited about it; I loved my uncle more than anything. He was everything I could have asked for in a father: he was kind, charitable, and an adventure-seeker.

He was involved in some program that let him travel a lot, so he was always going to foreign countries to build schools and churches, or to do some other saint shit. And whenever he went somewhere, he'd bring me back a cool souvenir.

When I was fifteen, he died somewhere in Australia while trying to protect endangered wildlife.

Most of the night was hazy, but I remember the important things. Aunt Clara had collapsed when she got the news, clinging to her phone as she sobbed on the floor. I sat with her in the kitchen for hours until she was finally able to tell me what happened through breathless shudders.

I was so fucking angry that the one good thing I had in my life had been taken away from me, that I couldn't have someone who would love me unconditionally and never leave me. My father was dead, not like he gave a damn about me when his body was still warm, and my mother was batshit. Sure, Clara was nice and loved me, can but she was blood; Uncle Jacob wasn't, but he loved me as if I was his own child.

So in my anger, I took a walk.

I couldn't stand to be in that house, with that wailing woman. She claimed she loved Uncle Jacob, but she never acted like she missed him anytime he would go away; she was always out late with her friends. Meanwhile, I'd sulk in my room while the babysitter ran up the cable bill.

Who did she think she was, crying on the kitchen floor for a man she didn't truly care about?

I had my father's lucky switchblade-it was the only gift he'd ever given me-so I wasn't scared to walk by myself. And even if I was apprehensive about walking around LA at night, I was too damn furious to care.

I'd been so lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear this creep come up behind me. Before I could snatch the switchblade, his hands were around my mouth and waist, and he was pulling me into a rundown building. I tried fighting him off, tried to squirm from his grasp, but everything moved in such a blur.

He was on top of me, his clammy hands pulling at my clothes. His sweaty lips were hot on my skin, and the pain I felt as he took my virginity was almost too much to bear. No matter how much I tried to get him off, he was so much bigger than me and nearly crushed me. If not for his hand clamped on my mouth to muffle my screams, my cries might have been bloodcurdling.

It didn't take long for the scum to finish, but it felt like hours while it happened.

Once he was done, he looked around the rundown space-probably looking for something to finish me off with. Taking advantage of the moment, I managed to grab my switchblade from my coat pocket and ram it into his neck.

He grunted loudly and slapped his hand over it as if it were a bug bite, but I quickly yanked it from his skin, blood spurting all over my bare chest.

He muttered something to me, but it was nearly inaudible.

As he fell to the ground, I gathered up the ripped remains of my clothes and put them on, uncaring of what I looked like.

The switchblade out at the ready and clutched tightly in hand, I ran as fast as I could back home.

I couldn't tell Clara what happened; as angry as I was, it would only be worse on her. And what would telling her have done? I was eleven and wouldn't get my period for another year and a half-even though I didn't know that at the time-so I couldn't get gotten pregnant. What was the point of reliving that if there was nothing she could do about it?

So instead, I holed myself away in my room and replayed my mother's words from four years ago.

" _We're supposed to save ourselves for marriage. That is the_ only _way it won't hurt."_

Goddamn that stupid fucker.

He took away my choice, and because he took away my choice, I would never be able to enjoy sex; it was always going to hurt. From the romantic movies I used to watch with my mother, women that had sex enjoyed it, and now I never would.

And as I lay on my bed, a thought occurred to me: a lot of women _didn't_ wait until marriage to lose their virginity. I knew the women in movies weren't real, but I had a cousin who got pregnant at twenty and wasn't married; she was very promiscuous, and it finally caught up to her.

That prostitute probably wasn't married; what man would actually **let** their wife do that kind of stuff? And like my mother said, women that didn't wait kept having sex anyway.

So what if those women _liked_ the pain? What if they _weren't_ like my mother and _didn't_ hope it would stop hurting?

It made sense.

As the thought rolled around in my brain, I slowly came to grips with the fact that I no longer had a choice of whether or not I waited until marriage.

So like my cousin, I slept around.

Like my mother said, sex still hurt, but I _liked_ the pain.

At first, I slept with older boys. It was a little difficult to seduce someone when you don't know what the word means and you don't have any tits, but it got easier after I hit puberty.

I was always careful, and I gained a lot of notches in my belt. As I kept doing it, it didn't hurt as much; I didn't mean to, but I would picture my uncle instead of some zit-faced high school boy.

The first time that happened, I realized I was a masochist.

I was in the back of Jamie Mulroney's parents' van when I randomly thought of Jacob. He was saying how much he loved me, how much he missed me when he would go away. I could hear his words as clear as day, and it became his hands clumsily fumbling over my thirteen-year-old body. His lips were on mine instead of Jamie's, and sex didn't hurt as bad.

No matter what I did, no matter who I slept with, it was always Jacob in their place.

But I needed the pain; I needed to be reminded of what I'd done.

Even though some dude I probably killed in a run down house had taken my virginity, it was ultimately my fault it had happened. If I hadn't gone for that walk, if I had have fought a little harder, I'd still have that choice; I'd still have the chance to not end up like my mother.

So the sex got rougher.

I did whatever I could to make it hurt more.

When I'm with a guy, I want him to fuck me so hard that all I can do is scream or dig my nails into his back. I just want him to thrust inside of me until he splits me in half.

I met Beck-a boy who looked so much like my uncle that I could hardly stand to be around him-my freshman year of high school. I just wanted to screw him and never talk to him again, but he wouldn't let me. He actually pursued me, and eventually won me over.

But our first time together, sex didn't hurt at all.

I assumed it was in part due to the clumsiness of it being his first time, but I didn't like it.

So I told him what I wanted in bed, and now he knows how to fuck me until I can barely walk the next morning.


	2. High

_**So I'm posting the first six chapters today, and this one was probably my favorite. And out of all six plotlines I'm hoping to work into this, Cat's is probably going to be my favorite.**_

 _ **Leave a review telling me what you think!**_

* * *

 _ **Cat**_

I'm in so much trouble.

It's never been this bad before; I'm always really good when I smoke. I should have just done that like I normally do.

I don't even remember what happened last night, but I know I did something _really_ bad.

I was already buzzed and having so much fun at the party and Corey gave me a pretty blue pill and everything turned into one big blur and I'm gonna be in _big_ trouble.

One time my brother took some pills from this guy he met at a party and went missing for three days; when we found him, he was on top of a Grocery Cabin in Wisconsin.

I'm not at the Grocery Cabin, though. I'm not at home. I'm not at that party, either.

I'm in so, so, so, so, so much trouble!

I told Jade I wasn't going to take anymore drugs, but I can't help it, you know? I like being happy, and that little blue pill I took last night made me _really_ happy. I think…

Normally it's just a little weed because I like being giggly and it doesn't make my eyes red, but lately it hasn't been doing much for me. Sometimes if I eat enough Bibble it gives me a sugar rush and I get giggly.

The first time I got high was when I was twelve. My mommy took me to a therapist once and he said I was really, really sad (but in different words). He also said I had ADHD which made my sadness a lot worse. My brother gets sad like I do, so that's why he does such weird things; they make him happy, and sometimes the drugs make him happy.

One time I "borrowed" a "joint" from his special stash; I'd seen him light one up and smoke it before, and I saw how he acted after he did it. When I did it, I felt happy like he did and it was one of the best feelings I ever had.

Sometimes my brother and I get high together; that's what he calls it, 'getting high.' But lately, he's been doing other things. He has a girlfriend and she likes to share a bag of white powder with him and he won't let me have any of it. He doesn't get weed anymore, and I've had to find it myself.

I found a dealer, but he's really mean to me and wants me to do dirty things with him, so I can't get anything. I'm running out, and I'm having trouble finding a new dealer. I guess that's why I went to that party last night.

I shouldn't have gone, though; I'm in so, so, so, _so_ much trouble. This is the worst possible thing I could have done _ever_.

Wordlessly, I climb out of the bed that isn't mine. I need to find my clothes. I need to find my clothes and get out of here. One I get out of here, I can go home and smoke again; I do my best thinking when I do that.

My mommy's probably worried sick about me since I didn't go home last night. She's been really strict with me since my brother got his new girlfriend. She wants him to go to this thing called 'rehab' but he doesn't want to go because he loves his girlfriend and doesn't want to leave her and she says she can't make him.

I wonder if she'd send me there if she knew what I did last night.

All of my clothes are in a tangled mess on the floor, and I can't even begin to think about how they got like that. As I untangle all of them, a really big pit forms in my stomach because my bra isn't here! I can't go home without it! And I can't leave it here! What if someone finds it? I'll be in even _bigger_ trouble…

"You forgot something."

I squeal slightly and turn around to find Beck staring at me with a smirk. He sits up in his bed with the covers exposing that V-shape that guys have, just barely covering his…

Oh, _God_.

His hair… his normally perfect hair is all messy and pointy, and I can vaguely remember losing my fingers in them. His bright brown eyes seem so happy, but this isn't something to be _happy_ about!

I've never seen him shirtless before, but I know I'm not supposed to want to and now I can't help but stare and…

And he's holding my bra…


	3. Threesomes

I'm used to writing intense stuff, for those of you who have read my other works, but writing sex is really weird to me and makes me uncomfortable. So, there are some graphic words in here that may seem a little OOC, but I couldn't bring myself to go back through and fix it.

* * *

 _ **Robbie**_

When I was twelve, I thought I'd never lose my virginity. I mean, I looked the same as I do now: dark curly Jew-fro, glasses, lanky body, nothing special.

Plus, I was picked on a lot for being awkward.

If it weren't for André, I would more than likely still be a virgin. He's really cool when you get to know him. Actually, he's really cool whether or not you know him, so I don't know why I said that.

He started dating this girl named Brielle when we started high school last year. She's as tall as Jade I guess and she has long, blonde hair. I don't really think it matches her skin because she's Hispanic, I think; André really has a thing for Spanish girls. She has big blue eyes and she's really, _really_ hot.

When we started high school, André couldn't take his hands off her, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was amazing, well, she still is… but you know what I'm getting at here.

And one day while I was over at Andre's house, she started inching close to me on the couch, putting her hand on my thigh, and sliding it up to my pants' button. She looked at me with those big blue eyes and she kissed me deeply.

The next thing I knew, André was on the couch beside her. I freaked out a little but he grabbed my wrist and put it on Brielle's chest.

"Come on," he urged. "You wanna get laid, don't you?"

Brielle breathed against my neck as she slipped her hand down my pants, causing me to get really hard. My breath hitched and she had smirked against my lips. Then she pulled away from me and took off her shirt. My dick bulged in my pants and pressed tightly against the zipper.

Brielle wasn't wearing a bra and her breasts were so… amazing.

She stood up and quickly slipped out of her little skirt while André took off his clothes too. All I could do was just stare in awe as her hands moved to my shirt. She pulled it off and unbuttoned my pants, pulling my dick out as well. She climbed on top of me and started riding me. All without putting on a condom!

God, it felt amazing as she rode me, and then her body pressed closer to mine as she put more pressure on me. I opened my eyes for only a minute to see André was behind her again, and he was thrusting hard into her.

She kept moaning loudly, and I couldn't take it anymore. I exploded inside her, but I didn't let her know; I couldn't let her know that I came inside her or else she'd get mad at me.

So she kept riding me until she came.

I let out a few groans to pretend that I came, but André kept going. Brielle pressed herself against me, moaning in some mix of pressure and pain in my ear as she stayed on top of me. He kept going until he came inside her, and then we all went upstairs to take a shower together.

We still do that, but we don't talk about it.

Sometimes André and I switch places on Brielle and I get to… be behind her. And sometimes, we bring different people into the mix. I guess I've slept with ten different girls over the course of three months, but that's pretty cool right?

I never thought André would be a swinger, but then again, I didn't think the same for myself.

But I don't want to do this anymore; it's weird. I don't like sleeping with my friend's girl, no matter how hot she is. I don't like having to share a girl with someone.

I want Brielle all to myself…


	4. Unrequited

_**I really wanted to make Beck's feelings believable, and I think I did, but I'll have more of a chance as the story goes on. I feel like Beck's character isn't as developed as the others, so writing him was a little difficult. I hope you guys enjoy though!**_

* * *

 _ **Beck**_

Last night… last night was something else. Jade was out of town with her aunt so I decided to go to this party down in Eastwood. My cousin invited me and said it was gonna be a 'rager.' I didn't want to go at first, but I thought it would be good to go out; I mean, I haven't spent a weekend without Jade since… we got together.

It was actually a relief to get away by myself.

I'd never tell her, but sometimes it feels like Jade's smothering me. I mean, I like that she wants to be with me because I want to be with her, but all she ever wants to do is have sex.

Yeah, a guy's dream is to have a lot of sex, but she wants it _rough_ all the time. I'm up for it, but maybe for once I want to just lie down with her and hold her for the night.

I like her because she's different than other girls, because she knows who she is and would never compromise that for a guy, but sometimes I just wish she didn't want sex that much… or that she wanted to just spend a night with me where we just sit around watching movies all night.

I had a few beers so I'd stop thinking about her, but I remember everything that happened. I remember seeing Cat at the party and talking with her, and then I ended up driving her back to my place. I remember looking at her and just… actually _seeing_ her. She seemed happier than normal, and she hung all over me; I just assumed she was wasted. Regardless, she was gorgeous.

Jade is gorgeous, too, but Cat is just so… so _different_.

Everything about her is soft and bright. I'd never really thought about it before, but I realized that Cat was the kind of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, whereas Jade's was trapped deep inside her chest. There was hardly ever a time where Cat wasn't smiling, and there was rarely a time when Jade was.

I was angry at myself for needing beer to actually see Cat, but something inside me knew I wouldn't forget it when I sobered up. Once that happened, I'd deal with my feelings then.

So we talked in my RV.

I don't remember what it was about, but I remember laughing; I hadn't laughed that hard in such a long time.

I remember her grabbing my hands, telling me that she loved me; though I knew it was only in friendship, my drunken inhibitions desperately clung to it meaning more.

We had stared at each other in silence for what felt like forever, and then her hand moved to my face. I hadn't thought about it when she'd grabbed my hands, but her fingers were ice cold; I'd expected them to be as warm as she was, but I also realized that I relished the feeling.

Before I could say anything else, her lips were on mine.

Some parts were blurry, but I know it was the best part I ever had.

She was a little hesitant, unlike Jade was for our first time, and I got to take it slow with Cat. Something pushed me to ask her if she was okay, if she wanted to stop-something I'd never done with Jade-but she gave me a small, shy smile to let me know to keep going. I got to explore her body, and get to know every inch of her. With Jade, she didn't care that it was my first time; she told me exactly what she wanted. Cat… she didn't know what she wanted, and I was able to help her figure it out. There was so much passion and affection present, and I didn't know how good it would feel.

Sometimes, I feel like Jade isn't all the way there, that she has the passion but she lacks the affection. It's usually the other way around-girls complaining about guys being selfish.

I awaken to cold air rushing beneath the sheets as my bed creaks softly. Blurry eyed, I sit up slightly to see Cat searching around in the pile of our clothes at the edge of my bed.

It feels like a lump beneath my back, and I shift to pull a bright pink bra from under me. My vision starts to clear, and I watch her continue to rummage through the clothes in nothing but her shorts as she clings to her shirt to cover her chest.

I smirk at the memory of last night; I know it was wrong, but it felt so right. And I know she felt something, too.

"You forgot something," I announce as I hold up her bra. She turns back to me with a shocked expression, her red hair tousled around her head like crackling flames above big, worried brown eyes. Her skin seems to almost glow.

She's utterly beautiful.

I put the bra down on my bed and pat an empty space beside me for her. "We should talk."

Cat moves to the bed slowly and picks up the bra, holding it against her chest with her shirt. Her shocked gaze falls, and she looks away in… embarrassment?

"This didn't happen," she says, her voice small. She clears her throat and raises her voice a bit. " _Whatever_ happened… it didn't happen, okay? I'm in **so** much trouble if anyone finds out."

"You don't remember?" I ask with a raised brow. I didn't think she was that wasted.

Oh, crap.

Crap, I took _advantage_ of her.

Oh, man… I can't believe this.

Cat shakes her head and closes her eyes. "Corey Schmidt gave me a little blue pill," she confesses. "I think I took some other stuff, but everything got all fuzzy after I took it; I… I don't remember anything that happened." She opens her eyes, with the hardest stare I've ever seen from her. The determination in her eyes is so striking, so unexpected; it only makes me want her more. "So _nothing_ happened."

This is so messed up; this is what I get for going out without my girlfriend. I… I was just so caught up in the beer and my feelings for her that I…

I thought she _wanted_ this...

I sigh and turn my head. "Let me get dressed, and I'll drive you home."

"I can walk," she assures me. She moves on the bed, probably putting on her bra. "I need some air."

"Okay," I breathe.

I wait for her to leave before I get up and dressed.

Angry and half in love with my girlfriend's best friend, I grab my work bag and head off to my weekend job.

There's so much going on inside my head, and work is the one place I know I won't have to _think_.


	5. Sterile

_**So, as you guys have seen, plotlines are going to overlap. With Cat and Beck, it was easy to put together seemingly longer chapters, because there were two different points of view I could write. With Robbie and Andre's, the chapters might be a little shorter because there might be too much overlap that makes the story redundant. So for right now, this is the shortest chapter in the story.**_

* * *

 _ **André**_

I love Brielle a lot. Honestly, I don't think I've ever loved any girl as much as I love her. I want nothing more than to raise a family and spend the rest of my life with her. There's no way I could ever see myself without her.

Brielle keeps telling me how she wants to be a mother, how she never wanted to go to school; she wants to be like her mom and be a housewife because she wants a big family like the one she grew up in.

But I can't give that to her.

I haven't been tested; I don't know if I could break it to my mom that I can't give her grandchildren. But, Brielle's going to catch wind of it sooner or later. Once she finds out that I'm not giving her a baby, she'll leave me high and dry.

So that's where Robbie comes in.

It was a really risky plan, and I wasn't entirely sure if it was going to work, but I didn't know what else to do.

Brielle wants to raise a baby with me, and I intend to give her what she wants, one way or another.

It took a lot of convincing, but I got her to willingly sleep with Robbie—as long as it's a three-way. I guess it's a good way to help Robbie gain a little confidence, too. It's a little weird for me, but if he knows that a girl as beautiful as Brielle wants to sleep with him, then I'm glad to help.

It started getting weird, having him sleep with my girl while I'm right there, but then we started bringing in more people. I haven't slept with anyone else, but Robbie's done it with more than ten girls.

I want to stop all this and just go back to being exclusive with Brielle, but she's so adamant about having a baby. Maybe we can stop once she's pregnant, but what if I have to start all this again when she's ready for another baby?

This kind of stuff really freaks me out. What if… what if I really _can't_ have kids? My mom'll be crushed, my dad won't care either way, and my grandma won't get to see her grandson become a man. Unless my parents miraculously decide to have another baby and it's a boy, my family name isn't gonna pass on.

Bummer.

I feel like I'm lying to Brielle every time I'm with her. I'm not telling her something, and she's expecting to get knocked up every time we do it.

At this point, I'm hoping I'm just stressed out, that all this pressure is getting to me. I read somewhere that stuff like that happens.

I'm hoping that Robbie gets her pregnant, to be honest; it'd be a lot better than some random dude. If she gets pregnant by him, she'll understand it's an accident, but still want to raise the baby with me.

Maybe after I save up money, I can get tested and be sure. Even if I can't, here's hoping I make it big and can afford to find a less sketchy way to give my girl what she wants.


	6. Skinny

_**This is my second favorite chapter, and I do like the plotline, but I'm not sure how much of it I'll be able to draw out. But I hope you guys like it! And it might be triggering for some readers, so there is mention of eating disorders. Leave a review telling me what you think!**_

* * *

 _ **Tori**_ _._

I was a fat child.

I mean, if you looked at me now, you'd never guess that I used to be the size of a ten year old when I was only five. Food made me happy, and everyone likes being happy.

I used to be miserable when I was younger. My dad was always away because of work, and they had him doing a lot of late night stakeouts. He and Mom used to fight all the time because she missed him.

She's been a teacher since I was two, so she's always had a set work schedule; she would never understand what his job was like.

When Trina and I were younger and our parents fought, she'd go to her room and cry; I know it hurt her a lot more than it did me. She never spoke that much, and she eventually started sleeping over at other people's houses just to get away from our own.

So a lot of times, I was left to myself.

My parents had the decency to argue in their bedroom, not that it helped much. And I don't know why, but food helped. I'd been a stress eater for as long as I could remember, so I would always find myself in the kitchen, eating whatever I could get my grubby little hands on.

As my sister and I got older, Mom stopped cooking because she was so upset.

Trina was never home, so if I was going to eat, I had to make it myself. We didn't have YouTube back then, so I had to learn from books she had lying around the house.

And it wasn't like I kept it all to myself.

I'd leave food at her door for her to eat if she wanted. There was always an empty plate waiting for me whenever I would check on her a half hour later.

Anyway, my parents marriage was crumbling, my sister was never around, and I weighed 109 pounds going into fifth grade.

Middle school was especially hard, and I was bullied a lot; everyone thought a fat Latina was _hilarious_ , and that's one of the reasons I've always hated stereotypes.

Trina didn't want to even be associated with me- _Hey everybody! Look at Trina Vega's fat little sister!_ -and I didn't blame her. But because of that, I was more alone than ever.

Halfway through fifth grade, I couldn't take it anymore; I was bullied so much at school for my weight that I was eating lunch in the bathroom. I was humiliated and so ashamed with myself that my sadness turned into anger.

I wasn't angry at the kids who picked on me; I was angry at myself for turning into such a fat lard.

The way I rationed it, I understood that food made me fat; if eating it made me gain weight, then I had to stop. But first, I had to get rid of everything I had ever eaten in my life.

At the time, I didn't know bulimia was a thing, but I knew that my stomach was always empty after I threw up whenever I was sick. So that's just what I did.

I would do it before school, between classes, and right before I got on the bus to go home-any time I knew there would be no one around to hear me.

It was one of the worst things I ever could have done, but it was working. The weight was falling off, and I was getting smaller and smaller.

This went on for about a month when my hair started to fall out. I was terrified and stressed out about it, that I picked up my old eating habits. So then I was eating and forcing myself to puke and losing my hair.

My body was so messed up from all the vomiting and the lack of food in my system that one day I just collapsed in class. I was sent to the hospital, and the doctor told my parents that I had acquired a severe case of bulimia; though I wasn't sure what it meant, my parents were horrified.

They sent me off to an institution for a year where I had people monitor me during every meal; I was never alone in that place, because they had to make sure I wasn't making myself sick. And eventually, I got better.

My therapist said that it was caused by stress, and my parents took that to heart; they went to couples' counseling and my dad talked to his police chief to see about a different position. He stopped doing so many stakeouts and was home more. Mom was happier, and it made Trina want to come home.

When I went back to school, no one bothered me about my weight anymore. I was just as small as the rest of them, and I even made friends. Suddenly, everyone wanted to talk to me. I had so many friends, and I even got my first boyfriend.

I don't think it counts since I was only eleven, but it was nice anyway.

But… then I went to highschool and everything changed.

I'd been dating this guy named Danny, and he cheated on me; I couldn't believe he'd done it. I was skinny and sexy and beautiful, but I wasn't enough for him. It made me think that maybe I _wasn't_ any of those things.

I was smarter about controlling my eating, though.

I still ate, but I ate smaller bites of food. I was able to manipulate people into thinking I ate. My food still disappeared from my plate without anyone noticing, but it ended up in plastic bags inside my backpack instead of my stomach.

As well as acting, I'm really into dancing, and I'm good at it. If I dance, I don't think about food, and I don't really have time to eat. Being a dancer has given me a little bit of muscle, but not enough that I'm not sexy.

As soon as I started going to Trina's high school, boys flocked to me left and right. All the attention felt nice, and I never wanted it to end.

So far, everything's coming up Milhouse.


End file.
